


Love and Appreciation

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boys In Love, Don't copy to another site, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Fluff without Plot, Greg Lestrade appreciation, Greg is beautiful, Greg is twitterpated, Idiots in Love, Love and Appreciation, M/M, Mycroft Holmes appreciation, Mycroft is beautiful, Mycroft is besotted, Mystrade in love, No Plot/Plotless, POV Greg Lestrade, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: Sometimes it's simply nice to sit back and admire your lover. Each of our boys finds an unexpected moment to do just that, first Greg, then Mycroft.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “Next to excellence is the appreciation of it.” –William Makepeace Thackeray

Greg was late, very late. He was supposed to have met his partner over an hour ago. But police work being what it is at times, he counted himself lucky to not be two hours late. Barely knocking he opened Mycroft’s office door.

 

“Hey, sorry I’m…” He stopped in the doorway of Mycroft’s office and stared at the empty chair behind Mycroft’s desk. Greg looked around the door and smiled. Stepping into the room, he closed the door softly. Mycroft, having shed his suit coat and shoes, was sacked out on the sofa.

 

It was evident the man had planned to do some reading. His glasses were perched on the end of his nose and a folder lay on his chest. A few pages had spilled out of the folder and onto the floor. Mycroft was snoring lightly, his head propped on the arm at one end of the couch and his stocking feet propped on the other arm.

 

Greg felt his heart expand in his chest and it nearly took his breath away. Moving quietly to the sofa, he carefully removed the glasses and the folder. He picked up the pages off the floor and slid them back in the folder. Greg set the items on the table nearby.

 

The room was warm and had a dim orange glow from the newly set sun. Greg kneeled by Mycroft’s head and took the time to admire the younger man. The light picked out and highlighted the ginger hair Mycroft took pains to hide. Greg’s hand itched to touch the soft locks, especially that cheeky curl, but he refrained. He didn’t want to muss it. His partner would likely be annoyed enough when he woke up.

 

Mycroft’s complexion looked a little flushed, and Greg suspected that had to do with the heat of the room. Close up he could see the myriad of freckles that dotted Mycroft’s pale skin. Greg’s life goal was to kiss every one of those freckles. He was fairly sure, in the time he had been with Mycroft, he hadn’t even kissed a quarter of them. In a few months there could be even more, if he could entice Mycroft to spend a little time in the sun.

 

Greg gently caressed his lover’s face feeling the change from soft skin to rough bristle of the 5 o’clock shadow that had grown in the hours since Mycroft’s morning shave. His hair may be receding but Mycroft Holmes could grow a magnificent beard. On the one time they had a vacation long enough Mycroft had grown, with nary a grey hair, a thick, russet beard that put most men’s to shame.

 

Mycroft’s breathing altered and he rolled onto his side facing Greg. His eyelids fluttered, but he did not wake. Greg grinned in anticipation. He was going to kiss Mycroft’s nose.

 

Mycroft hated his nose. It was long and big. A family trait inherited from his maternal grandfather, it tortured him spring and autumn. Greg, however, loved his partner’s nose. “You know what they say about men with big noses,” Greg had whispered in Mycroft’s ear one night early in their relationship. “Rake,” Mycroft had replied with a mischievous gleam in his eye. The moments that followed were some of the best moments of Greg’s life, so far.

 

Greg’s gaze drifted along Mycroft’s body taking in the long neck, long fingers, long legs, and long feet. Long and lean was the best description of Mycroft Holmes, and beautiful, Greg thought. He sighed quietly in appreciation and leaned in to lay a tender kiss on Mycroft’s nose, then lips, then nose. “My… My, love… My.” Greg whispered between kisses.

 

“Mmm… “ Mycroft hummed sleepily.

 

“Wake up, love,” Greg murmured, placing more gentle kisses on Mycroft’s wide forehead and nuzzling the soft curl. He just couldn’t help it.

 

Mycroft’s eyes blinked open and Greg sat back, smiling. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

 

Mycroft smiled back at Greg still drowsy and rubbed at his eyes. Greg noticed the sclera were red and a little teary making the blue irises look especially bright.

 

“Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice was rough and he paused, clearing his throat.

 

Sympathy filled Greg’s eyes. The afternoon nap made sense now. “Allergies bothering you?” Greg asked softly.

 

Mycroft sat up, nodding. “Yes, I took an antihistamine earlier.” He yawned behind his hand. “Apologies.”

 

Greg smiled and shook his head. He sat back on his heels, watching Mycroft pull himself together.

 

Mycroft smoothed his hair and carefully pushed his wayward curl back. “What time is it?”

 

“I’m afraid to tell you.” Greg said sheepishly.

 

Mycroft sniffed. “Hmm… Take away it is then.” He looked around the sofa. “Where is my file?” He pressed his wrist under his nose and stifled a sneeze.

 

“Bless you. It’s on the table. With your glasses.” Greg pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket, offering it. “Here.” Mycroft sighed in gratitude and took the cloth. With a grunt, Greg levered himself off the floor and onto the couch next to his lover.

 

Mycroft took a moment to clear his sinuses. “Apologies.” He said with a sniffle as he sat back.

 

Greg noted a light blush on Mycroft’s cheeks and grinned. “Have I mentioned you don’t need to apologize?”

 

“Once or twice, yes.” Mycroft grew a little pinker. “But that’s no reason to forgo my manners.”

 

Greg chuckled and cupped Mycroft’s cheek, turning his lover’s head and pulling him in close. “You’re cute,” Greg rumbled, kissing the younger man.

 

Mycroft pulled away as the kiss ended. “You’re obviously on hallucinogens. Did you let Sherlock make your coffee?” he teased.

 

Greg laughed. “No, not since Baskerville.”

 

Smiling, Mycroft gave Greg a brief peck and then stood going to his desk to collect his jacket and put on his shoes. Greg watched his lover’s legs unfold from seated to standing and stretch as Mycroft walked to his desk. Each step accentuated the rich curve of his arse. The man slipped his arms into the jacket and shrugged it into place. The top button of his starched shirt refastened with a twist of his long fingers and tie repositioned with a stretch of his slender neck. Each movement was graceful, without any conscious effort.

 

Greg swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. There was only one thing that would quench this thirst. “How ‘bout we pick up Thai and go back to yours?” Greg’s voice was low and husky.

 

The tone caught Mycroft’s attention. He looked back at Greg and took in his lover’s mien. A salacious smile crossed his face. “How about it?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies on how long it took me to post this chapter. I've had it written in my notebook for ages, but it has taken me this long to finally get it typed up. I hope you enjoy Mycroft's POV.

Mycroft was lucky, very lucky. It hadn’t always been the case he was lucky. In fact Mycroft could pinpoint the day, the moment, his luck changed. The day Greg Lestrade came into his life.

 

Mycroft lingered in the doorway of the kitchen watching his partner move about the room warming the take away they’d left to cool. They’d abandoned it in the kitchen rushing to finish what had started in his office earlier this evening. Passions now satisfied Mycroft was gazing at the love of his life shimmy about collecting plates and singing to a classic rock song Mycroft couldn’t identify. Something about love being a crazy thing. Well, he supposed that was true.

 

Greg’s rough voice rumbled along with the song. Mycroft closed his eyes and listened. The sound of Greg’s voice rolled through him. That voice could turn him inside out with desire. Greg would whisper to him as they kissed and petted. He’d whisper of the dirty deeds he’d planned. He’d whisper of Mycroft’s beauty. It gave Mycroft shivers of arousal.

 

It also gave him sense of safety unlike anything else he’d known. It seemed contradictory to be excited and soothed by the same sound, but there it was. When he was at his most anxious and fretful, Greg’s low tones comforted him. Mycroft likened it to being wrapped in a warm blanket and being held tight. Sometimes when his day was especially trying he’d call Greg’s phone just to listen to the voice mail message. Mycroft said it was because he didn’t like to text, but in truth he wanted to hear his lover’s voice even if was simply a request to leave a message.

 

Mycroft opened his eyes to see Greg’s toned and tanned thighs shift and his hips sway enticingly to the music. He loved how powerful and compact Greg’s legs were in contrast to his own long and spindly limbs. They felt solid wrapped around his waist. His lover’s glorious arse undulated and Mycroft’s hands curled slightly recalling the strong muscles of Greg’s thighs and glutes flexing under his grip as they had rocked against each other.

 

Greg glowed a warm brown in the kitchen light. He would go on and on about Mycroft’s freckles (angel kisses said the ridiculous man), but Mycroft preferred the exotic olive complexion of his lover. On the coldest nights Mycroft could feel the heat radiating from his lover, drawing him in ever closer like a siren. Bless the man, he welcomed Mycroft’s icy hands and feet as they reached for the warmth. With half-hearted curses Mycroft was encouraged to thaw his chilled extremities on Greg’s permanently sun kissed skin.

 

Mycroft sniffed softly. He felt his nose prickle and pinched his nose hoping to hold back the impending sneeze. Bugger, he thought as his hopes were dashed.

 

Greg whirled in his impromptu dance and caught sight of Mycroft. “Aw… bless!” He plucked tissues from the box at hand and brought them over.

He smiled and it made Mycroft dizzy. As many times as Mycroft had seen Greg smile it hadn’t ceased to be anything short of astounding. It never failed; Mycroft had to smile back.

 

“Hullo, love. Feeling any better after your shower?”

 

“Yes. That and… other things have helped.” Mycroft blushed as he took the tissues and blew his nose.

 

Greg grinned and winked. “Good. This green curry will help too.”

 

He turned back to the counter surveying what he’d assembled. He ran his hand through his silver hair. Mycroft envied Greg’s hair. There was so much of it even now in Greg’s middle years. His partner frequently lamented how grey it was and how it didn’t behave. Mycroft would silence him with a stare and gently pat it back into place.

 

“Now what am I missing…” Greg muttered. “Oh, right.” Greg pulled a bottle of champagne from the freezer and popped the cork.

 

Mycroft lifted his eyebrows. “What’s the occasion?”

 

Greg poured two glasses and handed one to Mycroft. He clinked his glass to Mycroft’s glass. “Because I love you and think you’re amazing. I’m so lucky to have you.”

 

“Gregory…”

 

“And if that’s not worth celebrating every chance we get I don’t know what is.” Greg took a sip and Mycroft did the same.

 

Taking their glasses and setting them aside on the counter top, Mycroft pulled Greg toward him. “You’re the best part of my life Greg Lestrade. I never want to be parted from you.”

 

Mycroft kissed Greg, slow and deep. Greg responded by kissing back soft and tender. Breathless and flushed they separated leaning their foreheads together. Mycroft’s brilliant blue eyes shone and there was an answering twinkle in the depths of Greg’s dark brown irises.

 

“Marry me.”

 

Laughter erupted and giggles spilled forth till tears slid down their cheeks. Catching each other’s gaze they knew only one word could be said.

 

“Yes.”


End file.
